Close to the Edge
by Sam-iii-Amm
Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled... see inside for more.
1. Prologue

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

The wizarding world cried all of May in 1997. No matter the side, nor the reputation, every person shed a tear. Two of the most powerful wizards lay in the ground, fallen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in a battle to defy any war seen before. As both men fell, the world stood still, both sides having stopped to watch their valiant leader die.

When the bodies fell and failed to get up again, the fighters lost it all. The will to live, the ability to hold back, the fear to kill. The world was free game and suddenly the only spell to escape warm lips was _Avada Kadavra_. Blind rage, fear, and sadness filled the hearts of the soldiers and green fire flew from wands into hearts pumping with the same raw emotions. No one scream was more defined than the rest, and no one face stood out in the mass of bodies littering the castle grounds.

Many of those closest to the Dark Lord would survive, as many of those closest to the Boy Who Lived would die. Somehow the evil always fare better in a battle based on dark magic. The Order could barely cast the killing curse, as so many of them truly were unable to kill another human. Hermione knew better. She stared at her best friend's unblinking eyes and shot a curse at the first Death Eater she saw, then watched as he fell in an unmoving heap.

So the story went for nearly a day, battling until there was no one left. Eventually, the wounded or the intelligent fled, while those too scarred to function in a normal setting kept fighting, praying to die. When the battle was over, there were too many bodies to count.

In the years to follow, the world was in a shambles. The government remained corrupt, while many offices emptied after the deaths tolled in. People no longer knew who to trust and there was no designated leader. People refused to take those closest to their Chosen One seriously because of their age, so the good side had only the few remaining Order members to fight for control. The darkness, it seemed, had many who survived to fight again.

After three years of struggling, the majority of the wizarding world settled to be run by those who mourn the Dark Lord. Laws were implemented concerning half-breeds and muggles, and now, there is talk of new laws about muggle-borns. It is a world of nightmares, and Hermione cannot escape the attention she once enjoyed. Now, she is a survivor, a threat, and a mudblood. She has the potential to destroy the world in the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, the current head of the Ministry of Magic, and she cannot escape the world that she has come to call home. She has nothing left to escape to.


	2. Chapter 1: Here's to the Memories

__**Author's Note: **Thanks to all those who read the prologue. I am happy to be on people's favorite/watch lists and I appreciate the review I've gotten so far. I figure I should upload the first chapter so that there is a bit more to read and enjoy. My chapters tend to be about 1200 words or so pretty consistently, so you have an idea of what to expect. Please review so I know what you think, and I'll be encouraged to write and post more! Thanks so much! 

_Title: Close to the Edge_

_Fandom: Harry Potter_

_Rating: R/M_

_Pairing: Dramione_

_Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay._

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><p>Chapter One: Here's to the Memories<p>

The sound of the few lingering birds chirping at the morning sun filtered through the closed windows of her small flat as Hermione rose from her bed and stretched her arms high above her frizzy head. She trudged to the bathroom and looked into her own chocolate gaze in the small mirror above the leaky sink. Dull. Barely even alive. Her eyes looked so distant and vacant. She barely remembered how they used to shimmer at the thought of life, brighten at the mention of a day of hard work and the chance of conversation, squeeze shut with the power of her smile at the thought of seeing her friends.

"What friends do I even have now?" she asked herself, as she did on bad days. Today was a bad day. She could already tell. She slipped out of her old cotton nightshirt and turned on the hot water, barely diluting it with any cold. She liked the feeling of the heat on her skin. The searing pain reminded her that she was alive. She got into the shower and let the water hit her face, sighing as it burned. She shampooed her hair, which still frizzed a bit much for her tastes, and put in a conditioner that made it easier to deal with, then lathered up her body.

She scrubbed over the scar on her chest from that curse Dolohov lobbed at her back in the Department of Mysteries, wincing at the memory that she could never escape. She often wondered how she'd survived as long as she had. She was never that great in battle. She was smart, sure, but she didn't have the skills in action. She'd always supposed it was Ron who kept her alive. He protected her, even when it meant hurting himself.

She barely felt the tears trailing down her cheeks in the hotness of the shower, but she could tell they were there, and she cursed her own weakness. She rinsed off and turned off the water, grabbing for her towel and ignoring the thinness of her body. She really needed to eat more, but there wasn't exactly enough money to keep any fat on her body. That money was needed for other things. She wasn't about to waste the life that he'd given so much to save. She at least wouldn't do it on purpose.

Hermione worked some mousse through her hair in the hope that it might control the frizz some, then left it damp and curly. Usually it behaved better if she avoided heat. She applied some makeup with a shaking hand, thinking of Ronald the entire time. He was hit by so many dark curses they couldn't even fix him enough to live outside a hospital room. He was like the Longbottoms; damaged in the head and the heart. He couldn't even form a full sentence anymore, but he could remember her name. He couldn't even remember his own mother, but he kept saying it over and over, writing it down in his preschooler's handwriting: "Hermione." Every whisper of it, every scrap of paper with her name scribbled and nothing else, each little example of his undying love for her broke her heart into a million more pieces, until she had to stop visiting him.

It had been over two years since she'd seen Ron, and her heart was still shattered. She hadn't spoken to any of the remaining Weasleys since she'd stopped visiting him. Molly looked at her with eyes that showed her confusion. She loved her like a daughter, but hated her for the son she'd taken away. Bill was off with Fleur and their child, and George, well, George was never whole after Fried died. The rest were gone. Casualties of war, even Percy. He died trying to save an already dead Ginny. Bellatrix was personally responsible for those two.

Hermione thought she could relate to Ginny's final feelings. The girl knew she couldn't survive in a world as messed up as theirs was about to be, and she threw herself on Harry's corpse, holding him as the curse hit her square in the back. She embraced death, and fell peacefully into an eternal slumber with the man she so desperately loved. Hermione wished she had done that instead of survived like this. She wished she could have Ron again, the way he was. She wished she'd been honest about her love for him sooner. She wished a lot of things.

Dressed in brown slacks and a cream sweater that made her look a bit too pale, Hermione sat at her kitchen table with a steaming mug of tea and the _Profit_ in her grasp. She skimmed the headline and choked on her tea. Setting the mug down, she clutched her chest and coughed until she could breathe again, then looked closer at the article.

"_Mudbloods to Pay Annual Tax for Citizenship. Just passed at the Ministry is a new law requiring mudblood registration and a tax of varying amounts to remain citizens of the wizarding community. Should the mudblood be employed in the community, he or she will have to pay an additional fee to take the position of a more qualified witch or wizard of magical blood. The degree of magical blood in said mudblood's family will also factor in, meaning that the least magical mudbloods will be charged the most in fees for everything from citizenship and employment to mere residency in a magical neighborhood. Any mudblood who cannot pay these fees and wishes to enter the muggle world instead of the magical one will be required to have their memories altered to avoid exposure of our world. Any mudblood who cannot pay and does not wish to enter the muggle world will be subject to imprisonment in Azkaban prison._"

The twenty-two-year-old gaped at the paper as if it had offended her by existing. The article was shocking! She'd gotten used to the word "mudblood" appearing in print everywhere, but this was a whole new story. She couldn't believe they were actually threatening memory charms and imprisonment for magical folk who happened to be of muggle descent. The fact was, she was as nonmagical as a witch could get without being a squib, and all squibs had been banished within the last year. There was no magical blood in her veins besides her own, and she'd worked hard to study and prove it. The fact that she might have had very little natural affinity for magic was never far from her mind, but now it would be on everyone else's as well. She could barely afford her rent, let alone all of these fees.

As a Ministry employee, she was sure she'd have to pay one of the highest working fees as well, and she couldn't imagine giving up her work, or her home. She didn't even want to think about leaving the world behind forever. She would go to this registration event at the Ministry. She had to anyway because she had to go in to work today. She'd go and she'd explain her situation. She'd show them her marks in school and her reviews from work that said she did so well. She'd prove to them that she was worth the job she worked, and then they'd see reason. They wouldn't charge her too much, and she could get a second job at a muggle restaurant or something. Yeah. She'd fix everything and this article would be nothing to worry about.


	3. Chapter 2: No News is Good News

**A/N****: **Here's another chapter. Hoping to get some reviews before I put any more up, so if you like the story and want to read more, let me know. I don't want to be writing this for no one... :/

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

Chapter Two: No News is Good News

When she arrived at the Ministry, Hermione knew she had been wrong in her assumption. There was a line so long it snaked around the statue in the center of the atrium three times. At the head of the line stood three officials sorting through paperwork to find the identifying documents of each muggle-born who came forward, and behind them hovered the Mistress herself, Bellatrix Lestrange. The mere sight of her sent a chill through Hermione's body, making her flesh break into goose bumps and her mouth go dry.

"Lose your nerve, mudblood?" a familiar deep voice drawled. Hermione looked up in surprise, only to meet a satisfied sneer and cold grey eyes. "Or," he started, strutting closer to her and looking down on her short frame. Malfoy had grown into a shockingly stunning young man. He was tall and pale, but he didn't look sickly like Hermione did with her intensifying pallor. He looked edgy. Strong. He looked like the devilish man he was, and he terrified her. Everyone thought he was so weak in school, but he proved them wrong. He almost killed Dumbledore. He possessed the Elder Wand, and he killed his own parents for abandoning the Dark Lord in those finals hours. He was Bella's second in command, and he was the head of her department.

"Or," he resumed, "have you decided to take the opportunity to abandon your demented little boyfriend once and for all?" She shivered as he circled her, like a bird of prey. She was aware of the way he watched her when she worked, how he enjoyed showing his authority while she played as his secretary, doing the most medial jobs and pretending she was important. She knew that he felt her desire to be in his position, and see him in hers, and she knew that he was loving this moment. "I noticed you haven't been taking any time to see him anymore. Not even on his birthday, like you did when you 'couldn't handle it' anymore." His voice was pitched an mocking and it physically hurt her to hear. The fact was, what he said was true, and she hated herself for it.

"Mr. Malfoy," she murmured, ever the professional, "I do not intend to leave my position in your office. I simply need to ask for some leeway. I cannot pay such a large amount as I'm sure I'll be required, and I do think I've proven my worth by now." She swallowed the rest of whatever she might say when she saw the bemused look on Malfoy's face.

"Miss Granger," he said with acid in his voice, "do you forget who my Aunt Bella is?" He paused to let the question sink in. Hermione had been tortured by the very woman, had watched her kill Ginny Weasley with her back turned. She knew Bellatrix Lestrange. She was the reason for Ron's insanity. She and the man before Hermione right now. "You know she will not make any exceptions, especially not for you. The only person she might make an exception for is yours truly, and since I am as pure as you can get, I don't think I'll be needing her to make any on my account." He smirked down at her and she felt herself go cold.

"How much is it, Malfoy?" she asked with a shaking voice. He must know how much she'd have to pay. He must know that she couldn't even come close to affording it.

"Oh, I've heard its twenty galleons for each parent, grandparent, and great-grandparent of muggle heritage. They like to go back three generations, you see. It's usually the farthest they can guarantee record of." He said this matter-of-factly while Hermione' jaw dropped. That wouldn't be so bad if you were only one generation removed from magic. Or one side of the family, but for her…

She squeaked as she softly said, "Malfoy, that's three hundred galleons just for my heritage!" There were tears in her eyes as he smirked at her again and nodded his pompous head at her. His hair was slicked back as it always was for work, and she found herself wanting to muss it up just to make him a bit less smug. He'd probably have her carted off to Azkaban for that though.

He looked away from her as if he couldn't stand to see her cry, but Hermione got that feeling that he looked away only to compose himself so that he didn't burst out laughing at her plight. "I also heard that you have to pay ten percent of your yearly salary to keep your employment. To go to those who might otherwise have your job, of course." Now she knew that he had a full-fledged smile on his face. Meanwhile, she was sure she'd soon pass out or throw up. Or both.

"I… I could never a-afford that," she stammered, looking around wildly with her eyes wider than they'd been since she was a child. "I, they'll, I… I c-can't go u-up there! I c-can't! They'll th-throw me in A-Azkaba-ban." She was shaking so much she had to lean against one of the marble pillars nearer to Draco Malfoy. She raised her hand to her chest and it hovered, shaking, over her heart.

"You could just get the memory charm done. Go back to your muggle family…" His cold eyes looked down at her then, and she could see the joy in them as he reminded her, "Oh, right… you don' t have any family to return to. Your parents… disappeared." Everyone knew what she had done. They knew she charmed herself out of their memories to save them. They knew it was more painful to keep them alive and well, and to send her anonymous letters with pictures of the happy couple with their adopted daughter in Australia.

Hermione was crying now. The hot tears seared her cheeks and she remembered only hours ago when she was showering and had cried. Then she thought she'd only had to worry about the past. She was safe in this half-life she lived. But now, now she knew better. Bellatrix stood waiting to send her to the dementors, and Malfoy stood keeping her from any thought of escape. The entire population would be on lockdown by nightfall. They'd find anyone who didn't show for the registration and taxation. There was no way out.

She turned to him. "I need help, Malfoy. Draco. I need you. We were kids together. We grew up together!" she was becoming hysterical. "Please, Draco. I can't survive Azkaban. My memories, they're already trying to kill me. I don't need dementors to make them even worse. I c-can't handle that!" She was sobbing now. Thoughts of the memories she despised so much, the memories she refused to give up, haunted her mind. She slid down the marble pillar, landing lightly on the floor and staring straight ahead with a pained and fearful expression on her face. "Please," she begged, "I'll do anything." More than the thought of being stuck with her memories, the thought of being without any of them, of being completely alone scared her half to death.


	4. Chapter 3: Promises, Promises

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p>Chapter Three: Promises, Promises<p>

Malfoy had mentioned that Bella would make an exception for her nephew. He wasn't lying. He called in that exception while Hermione rocked back and forth in a fetal position on the floor of the atrium where she had slid when her knees gave out. She'd just promised to do anything for his help, and he had walked away. She didn't know yet that he was saving her, but would she call it saving in the end?

He returned to her and told her to get up. "Stop acting like a fool, Granger," he said sharply, glaring at her. "You look damned disgraceful. Get up to the office and clean yourself up. Make yourself presentable. You know I expect my secretary to be more composed than this!" That was all he said. He reprimanded her for being childish, for she knew she was being childish, and strutted away toward the exits. And that was it.

Hermione slowly got to her feet and willed her knees to stop shaking. Tears were still silently flowing down her cheeks, but she knew she could fight them off before Malfoy would return to the office. She should be happy she still had the office and wasn't standing in line to be carted off to jail. Instead, she was even more terrified than before. What had she done? She'd promised him anything. Anything. Anything was a scary idea.

She wandered to the elevators and got into the first one that opened. Of course, there were people getting off, just having entered the building. One of them nodded at her, touching her arm in concern. Neville Longbottom. "Ron misses you," the healer said. He used his knack for Herbology to heal those he could now, to make up for those he couldn't heal in the battle. He'd lost sight in his left eye during the war, and now wore a patch over the grotesque hole that was once a socket.

He'd be coming to pay for some grandparent. Or maybe a great. Hermione couldn't remember where his muggle blood lie. He'd be fine. Wouldn't have to pay near as much as they wanted her to. The jobs wouldn't even cost as much to someone with so much magical blood. She nodded at him and pushed her floor on the panel of buttons. She didn't want to talk to Neville now. She couldn't handle any thoughts of Ron.

When she reached her floor, Hermione had stopped crying. She had moved from tears to plain terror and a foolish need to please the man who had stood up for her for reasons yet unknown. Could she really call it standing up for her? He'd bought her freedom yes, but it was far from free. She couldn't imagine what he might require as payment for his… generosity.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine and she wandered into her office, retrieving the small mirror she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk. With a small wave of her wand, she made the mirror hover before her while she magically washed away the makeup that had run since she'd applied it a few hours ago. She rummaged through her purse, only to get frustrated and summon the damn concealer and mascara. She never used much, but she had some terrible signs of weariness that were showing themselves as raccoon eyes that would put an actual raccoon to shame. She quickly applied the products, hiding the bags beneath her eyes and making her lashes look a mile long. She slipped some gloss on her lips and puckered at the mirror, then mumbled a charm she'd learned to rid her eyes of the redness from crying. It had been necessary in the first year or two after the battle.

With her makeup fixed and her appearance looking ten times better, she put the mirror and her wand away and began sorting through papers. She had a pile for each function; file, shred, fill out, get signed, and personal for those that Malfoy would deal with specifically. His dealings were mostly in foreign relations, and it seemed to Hermione that he was quite a popular representative of the department. He had more important dinners at his home than anyone she knew, perhaps even including his aunt herself.

By the time Malfoy returned to the office, she had finished sorting her papers and had turned to scheduling his meetings and dinners for the next month. She had just raised her wand to summon his personal day planner to match it up to the schedule she was working on when she heard the familiar clearing of a throat. She turned to him, wand still held up, and smiled slightly like the fool she was.

"Give me your wand, Miss Granger," he said in an easy tone, as if it was a normal thing to demand. Hermione hesitated, clutching it a bit tighter, and he said more sternly, "your wand!" This made her jump, and she handed it over to him. She turned back to the schedule, then twitched as she heard the splintering of wood from near the doorway. She turned back to Malfoy and squeaked as she watched him snap her wand like the twig it so resembled. She gaped in horror, not even knowing how to form words anymore. All she could do was stare at the two pieces of wood that had once been her wand, the dragon heart-string core showing its sad fibers in each end, splinters littering the floor.

Malfoy wore an amused expression as he watched her reaction. "You won't be needing that anymore," he said in that same simple tone that implied everything was as normal. "Since you are a mudblood, you will live like your muggle family. You don't want to give up your memories, you don't have to. You just have to live in this world without being a part of it. You will never use magic again." A smirk grew on his lips, and he walked slowly toward her desk. "Also, you will live in my manor now, so that there is no fear of you… running away. You won't go anywhere unwatched, and trust me, I will always know where you are. You are indebted to me to such an extent that you are, essentially, my property. And don't worry," he added as Hermione's lip quivered, "you'll be working for your keep."

**A/N:** Reviews are appreciated. Going to be on vacation for a while, so hopefully I'll have even more of this story waiting on my computer to upload when I get some more feedback. :)


	5. Chapter 4: Home is Where the Abuse is

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p>Chapter Four: Home is Where the Abuse is…<p>

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself staring at a ceiling so far away she thought it might not even exist. She didn't remember falling asleep. She certainly didn't remember passing out, and she definitely didn't remember becoming an indentured servant to Draco Malfoy. It was all slowly coming back to her, though, and she sat up a bit too fast, making her head spin. "Ow…" she murmured, then opened her eyes and looked around at her new surroundings.

The wood floors were a deep brown, almost black, and the walls were deep green. Every piece of furniture was either the same dark wood or the purest white leather she'd ever seen. Anything metal in the house seemed likely to be silver, as she stared around the room and observed each light and doorknob. There seemed only to be candles where there would be lights, and she silently wondered what she would do since she didn't have a wand anymore. She supposed she'd simply light the lower candles and ignore the large chandeliers when they occurred. After her practical brain relaxed, her more human one kicked on and she gasped back a cry. She didn't have a wand anymore. What was she going to do? Surely Malfoy wasn't serious about watching her and never letting her do magic again.

Malfoy. Of course, this must be his house. She considered getting up and wandering around, but she didn't think her shaky knees could support her at the moment, so she curled her legs up under herself and perched quietly on the footstool she seemed to have been placed on. She silently sat, taking in the room for another ten minutes or so until a small squeak alerted her that another creature had entered the room.

"Master Malfoy would like to see Miss in the Family Room, Miss," said the high pitched voice. Hermione looked down and saw a small house elf with ears larger than even Dobby's had been. It seemed to be female, and wore a patchwork 'dress' of old tattered washrags. The elf waited for Hermione to get to her wobbly feet and took off at a very slow pace to keep from rushing her into falling over. Hermione was grateful for this, as she was sure the elf couldn't do much to help her if she did topple over.

They finally made it to the back of the first floor where the elf led Hermione into a surprisingly warm room. The floor and walls were the same dark colors, and the furniture was the white leather that seemed almost offensive to the eyes, but in a rather good way. There was, however, a large white rug, that upon further investigation seemed to be the pelt of a Manticore. Hermione stared at it for a bit, then looked up at the fireplace that had a fire of silver flames. It was beautiful, and she was entranced for a bit until Malfoy cleared his throat and she turned to face him.

"That will be all, Nixie," he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the small elf and turning all his attention to Hermione. "It was not good of you to faint like that at the office, mudblood," he said in a too-calm tone. His eyes mirrored the silver flames in a way that made Hermione want to take back her assessment of their beauty. Those flames were as poisonous as the man before her. "You will do well to do as you are told and to do so happily. I am not an unreasonable man, as I believe you have learned from working for me for these past two years. If you do as you are supposed to, we will have a fine time here and you will live your muggle life in my magical world, but if you behave poorly…" He let the sentence hang and Hermione wasn't sure what to expect.

Then she heard his hiss of a voice utter a curse that she feared more than most. "_Crucio_," and her body screamed in pain as her throat screamed in terror. He only let it linger for a matter of seconds, but she still couldn't control her shaking and the small yelps that fell from her lips long after it was lifted. Her chocolate brown eyes stared up at him from where she had fallen on the soft rug, and she found herself wishing she had gone to the dementors. At least they would have caused her to lose her mind quickly. She had a feeling Malfoy would work at it slowly, piece by fragile piece, until she was as insane as Ron.

She was blubbering now. Sitting there on the fancy rug and staring at the man who had been a stupid boy who tormented her for fun. The ferret who had hurt her so badly when she was young, still hurting her even as she grew into a weak, frightened adult. She felt pathetic, especially as the snot ran from her nose and the tears made her cheeks sticky. Her hair was all mussed up and her makeup was, once again, running and unattractive as ever. She glared up at Malfoy, hoping to convey all the hatred she'd built up for him over the years, and was rewarded for her rudeness with another wave of the Cruciatus curse.

"You do not glare at your master!" he yelled, anger coursing through the spell and making her pain ever worse. She cried out as he made her back arch and her toes curl. "And you do not get your mudblood filth on my possessions!" He threw her off the rug with the end of the curse and left her sobbing and broken on the floor while he called Nixie back and commanded her to clean the rug. He strode over to Hermione and crouched down, staring into her pained eyes and holding her by the hair so that she would focus on him. She winced. "You had best get used to life around here, mudblood. Don't forget that I can keep you from work. I can keep you from society in general. I can do _whatever I want_ with you."

The implication in his statement made Hermione shiver, and she didn't even put up a fight when Malfoy attached a silver band around her ankle that fit itself snuggly to her skin. She had a feeling it was how he'd keep track of her, but she didn't even have it in her to fight him anymore. Not now. Not when he'd just made it clear how much her promise had given up.

**A/N:** The next chapter isn't quite finished yet. I think I've decided exactly where I am going with this story, and I plan on it being rather long, but there is a definite ending idea here. Some stuff is still subject to change, but I just felt like updating everyone so you all know that I do know where I am going and all. If you've enjoyed at all so far, keep reading. And review please!


	6. Chapter 5: Whatever He Wants

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

* * *

><p>Chapter Five: Whatever He Wants<p>

Hermione spent the rest of the day huddled in a chair back in the main living room. Malfoy had strode out of the family room with an air of superiority about him while Hermione sobbed on the floor. When she composed herself and was able to get up, she noted that he was nowhere to be found. She figured he must have retired to his room or gone to some study or another. Either way, she was alone, and she didn't know where to go in this new environment. The last thing she wanted to do was upset the man who had already tortured her twice, so she crawled back to where she started, and so she remained until her eyes drooped and her mind slipped into sweet unconsciousness.

She woke up to the feeling of being watched. Hermione jumped, noticing her arms were curled tight about her knees almost in a fetal position. Her neck hurt, so she turned it this way and that as she stretched out her arms. His cold laugh made her stop, staring at the man who she now feared so much. "Sleep well, mudblood?" he asked in his slick tone. His eyes told her that he was cruelly amused, and she shivered as she tried to imagine what might cause this state of being.

"Um," she mumbled, then noticed the way his eyes sharpened at her mumbling. She cleared her throat and began again, hoping she might avoid his quick temper. "Of course. I slept fine. The furniture is, uh, it's very c-comfortable." The last bit came out in a squeak as Malfoy moved closer to her shuddering form. He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, forcing her eyes to lock on his own.

"You've shown your ability to learn quickly," he murmured, making her gulp and momentarily close her eyes. "Don't look away from me, mudblood." His grip tightened and her cheek pressed against her teeth, chafing so that she could feel the soft skin of her mouth tearing slightly. She couldn't taste any blood, so Hermione figured he wasn't trying to make her bleed. She opened her eyes. "Good. You will do as I say, whenever I say it. You will expect nothing, and be grateful when you receive anything. You will live as the lower being that you are, and you will like it. Is that understood?"

His eyes held an evil gleam that made her fight to pull away, causing his fingers to dig into her cheek and a slight metallic taste to fill her mouth. "Y-yes," she stammered, whimpering at the force of his hand and the pain in her cheek. There was definitely a wound, and he was only squeezing harder.

Malfoy glared at her with such anger that she instantly recoiled, only to whimper again as her teeth grated into the fresh wound. "Yes? Yes what?" He smirked at her, still holding her face tightly, digging his thumb into the wounded cheek while his fingers worked on the other side. Hermione's mouth screamed in pain, but her vocal cords fought to stay silent. A small squeak was all that escaped.

"Yes, sir?" He glared and tightened his grip so that she let out a high "Ah!" She blinked and fought a tear from falling, but failed to keep it in. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" She sobbed as he rubbed his fingers and thumb back and forth, using her teeth as a grinder on her sensitive cheeks. She could taste the iron of her blood and it was making her sick.

"Master! Master, you fool," he said in such a harsh tone, throwing her back into the chair and laughing as a small line of pink spit ran down her chin. She was shuddering so hard it made him laugh. "And to think I thought you were smart. You stupid mudblood. Inferior and dumb. I don't even know why I kept you from the damn dementors." He shook his head and took the few steps to hover closer to her, then grabbed her hair, forcing her to stand. "You will not get your filthy blood on any of my belongings. You can use your own rags to wipe that away." At that, he pulled the sleeve of her sweater, tearing it at the seam. She cried out, but he simply lifted his wand and was met with sweet silence. She was terrified that he might torture her again.

Malfoy threw the sleeve at her face and Hermione wiped the spittle from her chin, keeping her mouth closed as more tinted saliva coated her lips. She held the sleeve to her mouth as she sobbed, and her newly appointed master scoffed at her. He finally turned away from her and she opened her mouth, wiping the bloody mess from what she could get to and willing herself not to puke. It was disgusting, and the off-white of her garment was quickly turning an ugly shade of scarlet.

"A man of my position," Malfoy began, ignoring her whimpering as she continued to blot at her mouth, "is often expected to woo the fairer sex." He paced slightly while he spoke to her in a business-like tone, as if he was speaking to her in the office and she was simply his secretary, rather than his apparent slave. "I take fine women out on expensive dinner dates, and every so often we come home for beverages and some love making might happen, but often times there is more discussion and establishing business partnerships, maintaining cooperation and foreign laws, the things that I am expected to do to increase my standing at the Ministry and ensure my good standing with all of our foreign relations. You know the girls who I have scheduled dates with."

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction, so Hermione nodded. She had scheduled more dates with strange names than she could count. A good half of them required that he apparate across Europe, but this never seemed to be an issue for Malfoy. Hermione was secretly impressed by his ability to focus on work and the future, rather than using his charm and good looks, not to mention his wealth and social standing to satisfy his own, more selfish needs. Now she was terrified of what this might mean for her.

He cleared his throat and strode back toward her, a lustful glimmer in his silver eyes. "You are, though rather impure, a member of this fairer sex. Trust me, I use the term loosely." He smirked as he insulted her, making Hermione's blood boil, but she quickly stowed the anger. She was already bleeding. She didn't need more injuries. He cleared his throat again. "You will stay in the quarters next to mine. You will wear what my elves put in the room for you. You will do as I say, as I say it. You will, for now, still be my secretary at the office, however, if you fuck it up, it is not my fault." The last bit was such a threat that Hermione feared he would decide she had done something wrong already and take the privilege away already.

Malfoy paced slightly, calling an elf to his feet. This was a different elf than the one Hermione had encountered before, and it did not speak. It awaited Malfoy's orders, which was something she made a mental note to practice herself. He didn't want to hear her. He wanted to use her. She would not give him reason to harm her. At least not until she had some plan thought up. "Take the mudblood up to her chambers. She will need a bath run, and those rags she's wearing will need to be burned. You will lock her door as I have instructed. You will not speak to her."

At that, Malfoy smirked at Hermione and left the room, the elf walking in the opposite direction without waiting for her to catch up. She gulped. It was going to be a long life.


	7. Chapter 6: Fucking It Up

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p><strong>AN:** This chapter is GRAPHIC. It contains MATURE MATERIAL. Do not read if such material offends you. Thanks. (Also thanks so much for the reviews. I love you all.)

Chapter Six: Fucking it Up

The clothes Malfoy left for Hermione were surprisingly luxurious considering how filthy he thought her to be. There were silk work robes and the nicest slacks and sweaters that she'd ever seen, though they were much more form fitting than she was used to. It seemed she was no longer allowed to ignore the figure she'd developed, despite it being a bit too thin for her frame. She was presented with the softest blends of material to sleep in, though each nighty was more revealing than the next, and she tried often to wear her witch's robes over them and hide her body. Hermione quickly learned not to hide herself around Malfoy. It only enraged him.

The first night, Hermione was left alone in her room with nothing at all to do but think about all that she was dealing with. She remembered how her life had been, back when she was simply in school and trying to deal with life as a muggle-born witch. Sure, she'd been in the minority there, but she hadn't been alone. There were plenty of people who didn't mind her background. She'd found friends. She'd even found love! She remembered how jealous the other girls had been that a pro quidditch player would choose her. She really hadn't been that poor off back in school. The 'brightest witch of her age,' after all.

Now, she found herself waiting for her 'master' to call on her to do Merlin knew what, and if she refused she could face reliving her worst moments for the rest of her life. There was no way She'd get death now. Malfoy wouldn't let her go that easily.

Hermione never considered killing herself. Even as Malfoy finally called on her the third night of her sleeping in the provided chamber. He came to her, surprisingly enough, carrying with him a book of a very familiar title. _Hogwarts: A History_ was set on the desk, and Malfoy strutted over to the queen sized bed.

"You really have behaved, mudblood," he said, removing his robe and setting it carefully aside. He moved on to his plain white tank and set that with the robe, exposing his muscular body. Hermione let out a slight gasp of appreciation, and licked her lips despite herself. She didn't want to feel so attracted to Malfoy. She didn't want to have any feelings that what he was doing wasn't wrong. Hermione wanted to keep the knowledge that Malfoy was going to rape her. She would never think he wasn't.

Malfoy moved to his pajama pants, pulling the grey sweats off and folding them, setting them with the rest and crawling onto the down comforter. "You are a beautiful woman, now aren't you Granger?" His shift from calling her 'mudblood' to 'Granger' did not go unnoticed, and Hermione felt herself blush. The pink tint went from her cheeks all the way to her chest, and she found herself looking away from her employer and soon-to-be rapist, tucking her hair behind an ear and attempting to hide a smile. "That little piece suits you so very well, so white and virginal…" He paused and looked at her, touching the trim of the lace teddy the girl wore. "You aren't _really_ virginal, though, are you?" She shook her head, not knowing how to actually answer him. Hermione had experienced some sexual things. She wasn't a complete prude, and she had fooled around with Ron a bit. No to mention the pro quidditch player she'd thought about the days before. Krum had done his fair share of groping and exploring, and Ron had shown her how soft and careful his calloused hands could be. Hermione blushed more fiercely at these thoughts, and Malfoy edged ever closer.

He reached toward her and pulled her face to him, letting his lips find hers and delighting in her little moans at the pull of his lips, the entry of his tongue. Hermione felt alive with the passion that the kiss took on, neither of them seeming to remember just who they were kissing. While his tongue explored her mouth, Malfoy moved his hand up her thigh, reaching his fingers toward her most secret spot. She panicked and clenched her jaw, thus biting Malfoy's tongue and screaming as blood filled her mouth.

"Oh! Oh, no! Draco! I, but, no! Are you o-" she broke off as he raised a hand and slapped her across the face. She cried out in pain, but Malfoy seemed a man possessed. He ripped at the negligée he'd just complimented. He tore it from her body, ignoring her pleas that he stop. "Draco, no! Please!" she screamed, but he kept at it, pulling his boxers from his body and shoving her down on her back.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled them together above her head, holding them down with one hand, squeezing tight enough to bruise. "Listen to me, you mudblood bitch!" he demanded, pulling her thighs apart and thrusting a finger between her folds, feeling the initial wetness he'd brought forth, but realizing that nothing about him was turning her on. He seemed to like that. "Let me tell you some rules," he snarled, shoving two fingers inside of her and working her tender nub with his calloused thumb. He was rough, but it still produced a great flutter inside of her stomach that made her groan, lifting her hips toward his hand even as she wished she could stop. Her face throbbed from the slap.

"One," he started, adding a third finger and thrusting deep within her core, working her hard as anyone ever had. His nails tore at her tender flesh, making her whimper with both pain and desire. "You do not call me by my name. You call me Master. I had thought I'd made that clear." He pulled his hand away as he felt her body going, ready to clench on his digits. He wouldn't give her such satisfaction. He would have her as much as he wanted and she would damn well deal with it. Hermione felt tears in her eyes.

"Two," he said, flipping her over and shoving her to her knees. He spread her legs and positioned himself to enter her from behind. He let the head of his penis sit snug in her entrance, teasing the opening yet denying her the satisfaction of being filled. "Two, you don't get to go to work this week. You are feeling a bit sick, and you aren't sleeping well. I didn't want you to come in if you were feeling ill. I am not interested in catching anything. No one will question my decision to give you the week to get well. You will be here. You'll probably need the rest once I'm done with you." He rocked his hips toward her ass, thrusting into her core with all the force he could muster.

No more talking would come that night. Malfoy pumped into her, hitting her so deep with each thrust that Hermione thought she would never feel so alive again. He left after his orgasm filled her, going through the door that connected their chambers and leaving Hermione in a blubbering heap on the bed. She wasn't going to get out of that house for over a week. She wasn't going to have any contact with anyone but him. She'd have a black eye from the slap he'd hit her with. For Hermione, there was no comfort but her own tears. She curled up into a fetal position and cried until she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 7: Dreams Aren't Reality

**A/N:** I'm sorry it has taken so long for me to update this. I got a bit... down and uninspired and stuff. But I'm back, and I wrote up this chapter and most of the next today at work! :D I have plenty of creative juices flowing, so I am going to try to update once a week, every other week at worst. As always, reviews help me write faster! *winkwink*

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p>Chapter Seven: Dreams Aren't Reality<p>

Hermione woke the sound of her own labored breathing as she tried to stop the tears that had been falling all night. She had slept roughly, never quite able to reach a deep sleep and plagued by the feeling of something foreign inside of her very being. She felt unclean, terrified, and utterly alone. After lying there for a good half an hour or more, she finally peeled herself off of the sticky sheets and wandered to the bathroom attached to her room. The house elf Malfoy had called "Nixie" was waiting in the bathroom when the brunette opened the door.

She squeaked, then looked at the small creature and tried for a smile. Instead, Hermione wound up looking even sadder and more broken. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting on me," she said softly, thankful for the steam that was filling the room now that the elf had turned on the water. A pleasant aroma filled the air, reminding Hermione of the lilac bushes her mother used to grow in their backyard. She sighed a true breath of relief then, sliding easily into the hot water. "Thank you, Nixie," she breathed.

When she opened her eyes, Nixie was gone and Hermione was able to sink into the calming steam and the easy silence of the bathroom. She nodded off while the water cleansed her abused body, resting without a single thought reaching her tortured mind.

Though she was sore from the encounter, Hermione was also a bit stronger in a way. She now knew what the worst could be, and she found that even though it was terrible, it was still better than the idea of reliving her worst memories in Azkaban. Now that she was clean of Malfoy's seed, she felt very empty. She was bruised and scared, but she was still alive with her own memories of the magic that had once graced her life. At least she had those happy memories to fall on.

After the bath, she'd searched the bathroom and found many familiar supplies. Makeup, mousse for her curls, perfume. It seemed Malfoy had thought of everything, or at least the house elves had. She had a purple toothbrush and a nice minty paste that left her mouth feeling clean, even if her soul felt as if it would never rid itself of the impurity of Draco Malfoy's member. When she examined the room in which she had slept, she found an assortment of garments, some less revealing than the nightie that he'd destroyed the night before. She was unsure of what to wear during the day when she was not allowed to venture to work, but was mostly satisfied when she found a more desirable set of lounge clothes.

The shorts were closer to underwear than anything, and revealed the white lace panties that she'd found in another drawer, but they were at least stretchy and gave her a more secure feeling than a nightie would. The emerald cotton of the shorts reminded her of her school days, and she was sure Malfoy would enjoy her donning his Slytherin green.

The white lace bra that matched the panties was a bit small in Hermione's opinion, forcing her breasts to sit much too perky on her chest and offering much more milky skin out in the open than she was used to. There was a thin black tank that didn't even manage to hide the entire bra, lace showing above the deep neckline, and her nearly concave stomach was much more exposed than she was used to. She felt self-conscious, but quickly shook it off and wandered to the desk near the room's one window.

There it was. The item Malfoy had brought with him when he had been so proud of her behavior the night before. She wished she hadn't given into the shock of his touch. She hated that she'd bit him and forced the painful encounter rather than just letting things happen in a more civil manner. She silently questioned her desire. She had wanted to let him go on making her moan for him and respond to his ministrations without holding back. She'd wanted it to be a more positive experience. How positive had she desired? Did she want to let herself feel something for the man who was raping her?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, then focused again on the book Malfoy had placed on the desk. The familiar tome brought a smile to her face, despite everything going on in her life. She remembered getting her own copy of the book just after learning of her magical abilities. She'd dragged her muggle parents through Diagon Alley in search of the book store, then looked for anything that might tell her about the wondrous school she was soon to attend. When she'd found the book, she had fallen in love, and her father had bought it for her even as she read the introduction, sitting in the aisle of the store, oblivious to the world around her.

She'd read the book so many times over the years, she could recite it word for word. Every time she read it she remembered her parents and the eager way they listened when she explained the world she was now a part of. She remembered Harry and Ron teasing her for having reread the tome so many times. She remembered Fred and George, and how they had threatened to use her copy to test some of their jokes on and how she'd screeched in response, making everyone laugh. As her fingers ran along the fresh binding, the raised letters of _Hogwarts_, she remembered the special copy Harry and Ron had bought her for Christmas the last year they were together. Their last Christmas holiday spent at Hogwarts. They'd both written in the first blank pages, notes of how much they loved her and how proud they were to call her their friend, or for Ron, girlfriend. It was a collector's copy. Mint condition and expensive as anything she'd ever owned. It burned with the school.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she opened this fresh, new copy of the oldest history of Hogwarts. The blank pages at the beginning were just that. Blank. Empty. Until her tears began to soak into them, speckling them with her utter sadness. Those memories could never be real again. Harry and Ron, her friends, okay… That was just a dream. Hermione knew better. You couldn't bring back the dead. You couldn't fix what was so completely broken. She couldn't escape the reality life had given her. She was Malfoy's now. Harry and Ron were gone. Her old life was gone, just like that collector's copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Her dream life had gone up in flames. Her reality was the ashes left behind.


	9. Chapter 8: Ashes, Ashes

**A/N:** So I have a clear idea for each of the coming chapters. There will be twelve in all. More reviews make me write faster! ;)

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

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><p>Chapter Eight: Ashes, Ashes<p>

Malfoy returned late from work, but he seemed in a better mood than the night before. Hermione had carefully made her way to the entryway to meet him, thinking it a good idea to welcome her 'master' home, and he had actually smirked at her behavior. He looked over her ensemble and the smirk grew, causing Hermione to grow a bit crimson in the cheeks. She felt the blush fade quickly, however, when she noticed that the door had yet to close. There were a couple other people coming up the walk, and she had gone pale.

Her instinct said to run, hide the state of dress and her precious body, but she knew that her master would be displeased by this. He would have her do as he desired no matter what she wanted, and it was better to avoid his wand work when she could. Thus, without a single curse uttered, Hermione stood welcoming their guests as two familiar people walked through the door.

Slytherins. Hermione felt her heart quicken its pace as she looked them over. One she knew easily by name. Pansy Parkinson had been Malfoy's love interest for the last three years of school, if not longer. Her scrunched up nose and short, dark hair were dead giveaways to her identity. The other one was a male, dark complexion and even darker eyes. He was strong, slightly taller and bulkier than Malfoy. Hermione remembered his name from classes. Zabini. She didn't know much about him, but the hungry look in his eyes made her think she knew more about him than she wanted to. He was looking her up and down with such intent interest that she thought she might never escape his gaze. Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Mudblood," he said with more cheer in his voice than Hermione felt necessary. He motioned to his guests and the smirk never left his lips. "We have company tonight. My dear friends and I had drinks after work, to catch up, you see, and I let slip that I had a sort of… _guest_ living with me. They expressed an interest in saying hello. After all, they haven't seen you in… goodness me, it must have been four years ago. Yes, when Pansy here helped my aunt get rid of that annoying little redhead girl."

The dark-haired female grinned a wicked grin and let out a short cackle that was all too much like Bellatrix. Hermione wondered what the purpose of bringing these two here could be, but she kept quiet, praying that they would stay for dinner, take a few more jabs at her heart, then be on their way. She was sure they wouldn't, but a girl could hope.

The three of them ate a lavish meal while Hermione was forced to stand by and watch. Normally, Malfoy at least let her eat at the table with him, but tonight was different. Apparently his guests were above eating the same food as the likes of her, or with the likes of her, so she had to stand silently while they indulged and spoke poorly of her fallen friends. Some of the comments from Pansy were the worst, and Hermione was left imagining what the evil girl might do to her after her hunger for food was satiated. She had a feeling Pansy's hunger for inflicting pain never quite ceased. It was a bone-chilling thought.

The male guest kept looking at her with a different light in his dark eyes. A need. It was a lustful gaze and it made Hermione twitch uncomfortably. She had an idea of what he was there for, and she did not like the thought of him any better than that of Pansy. As the dessert trays left the kitchen with the small and silent elves, all hope that she might not have to face the two of them vanished from her mind. They were standing up and they were both looking at her like hungry lions might look at a wounded gazelle. She was frozen to the spot.

Malfoy stood and cleared his throat, drawing her chocolate colored eyes to him. "Now, Mudblood, my friends are not quite as fortunate as me. They do not have their own little charity case to fulfill their needs in return for the right to her memories and freedom." On the last word his voice took on a slippery tone. Freedom. Yeah, right. She had freedom. Freedom to be abused and trapped in Malfoy's home rather than the same in Azkaban. She was beginning to wonder if the torture of her own worst memories wouldn't have been better than her current situation. At least then she'd still have some dignity.

"Pansy has a lot of anger within her," he continued as if his assessment of the situation was a completely normal sort of speech. "She needs a safe place to get that rage out so that she doesn't do something foolish, now that the fighting has ended and everything." He smirked a bit at his petite female friend, then looked back at Hermione with no pity in those cold eyes. "Blaise has a bit of a… domestic problem." He nodded to the male and Blaise shifted awkwardly on his feet, trying to hide the growing erection that was clearly visible despite his trousers. "Focusing so much on work has left him a bit unfulfilled in the bedroom. I told him you could easily take care of that little problem."

Hermione thought it was a bit more than a 'little' problem. Her eyes had gone wide as she heard what she was to endure, and she was beginning to feel like a cornered rabbit. Her heart raced and she felt a cold sweat gathering on her brow and upper lip. She couldn't understand why she had to be in this situation. If only things had worked out differently. If only Harry had survived. If only she hadn't had to send her parents away so that she had somewhere to go as a muggle. If only, if only, if only…

Her reality sank in as Pansy took a step closer and drew her wand. Hermione didn't know what to do, so she just closed her eyes tight and tried to brace herself as a cruciatus curse hit her square in the chest. She fell to her knees with a sickening _thump_ that sounded like she'd be very bruised for at least a few days. Her mouth flew open and a scream tore through her throat. It felt as though her ribs were closing in on her organs, squeezing her heart and lungs until she couldn't breathe and her pulse slowed to almost nothing. The pain was unbearable. She thought she would surely die.

Then it stopped.

She had almost blacked out, but Malfoy had stopped Pansy just before, reminding her that an unconscious victim was no fun at all. She made her way to the brunette lying on the floor, pulling a dagger from her belt as she did. She came prepared with her weapon of choice, and she was eager to use it. Pansy pulled Hermione's hair, exposing her smooth, pale throat. "I could kill you right now, you know. I could slice through your soft flesh and make your blood spill over this floor. It would go very far, too. There is a lot of blood in the human body…" Hermione swallowed and felt the edge of the knife bite slightly into her flesh. She whimpered and Pansy laughed. It was scary how much she sounded like Bellatrix.


	10. Chapter 9: We All Fall Down

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine: We All Fall Down<p>

Within moments Hermione was left naked on the floor, her neck slowly bleeding from where the knife had scraped her skin. She felt some sadness for the now-torn clothes she'd been wearing. There was something nice about having actual shorts and white lingerie. It made her feel more herself, more innocent and carefree. It was probably more fitting that those items be shredded- just as her innocence was torn from her and her freedom as well.

She was brought back to reality when she felt a sharp pain in the center of her chest. It seemed Pansy was intent on gaining her attention while she tortured the frail brunette. "Now, now, little plaything. You look at me while I cut you up." As the words passed her lips, Pansy dug the blade lower, leading it all the way to Hermione's belly button where the blood pooled. The tortured girl cried and shut her eyes only to hear the angry grumbling of her attacker.

"Mudblood," Draco's voice filled the room, making Hermione's eyes fly open, "you will listen to my guests' commands. If you do not, I will have to let Pansy do whatever she wants to you with no rules. It isn't as though anyone would care if you suddenly disappeared from society."

Hermione let out a sob as Pansy snickered, moving down the girl's body and pulling her legs apart. The brunette tried to squirm away only to have her thigh sliced for her behavior, so she stopped moving and simply lost herself in her own quiet cries. Her knees were pushed into the air, feet slid up nearer her ass and she felt completely exposed. Pansy was between her legs, staring at her most private parts and holding her dagger as if it was Christmas and Hermione was her present. The girl was terrified.

A blood-curdling scream rang out as the blade sliced sharply through her most sensitive lips, burning so terribly that sparks flew behind her tightly shut eyelids. Hermione felt like she was dying, but worse because she wasn't and so the pain would not stop. Another screech flew from the poor girl's lips as the slice was mirrored on the other side. The slits were now cradling her clitoris and she could feel how much friction there was without her even moving. Just breathing moved her nethers in such a way that she couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. It burned so badly. She felt as though she was on fire.

Pansy laughed triumphantly, forcing Hermione's legs closed and reveling in the pain that the pressure obviously caused her. The darker haired girl shifted Hermione's legs side to side, making the girl whimper and cry from the rubbing between her legs. Pansy was positively cackling and Draco snorted in the background.

"Is that all you wanted, Pansy? I didn't realize you'd be so fast to satisfy," Hermione could hear the smirk in his cold voice. Pansy stood and moved somewhere away from Hermione, still laughing to herself. "Well then, Blaise, I suppose it's your turn. Make it good, because this is a one-time deal."

This last statement at least gave Hermione hope, but she was brought again to painful screams as Blaise picked her up from the floor and hoisted her over his shoulder. She could feel the blood streaming slowly down her thighs, and she knew he would be covered in the ruby secretions from her filleted chest and stomach. The man did not seem to care, however, as he saluted Draco and carried Hermione off to the guest chambers. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, preparing herself for the painful ride and the inevitable torture that was soon to come.

Thus, Hermione had no idea when they'd arrived at the guest room and was surprised when she was tossed onto a large bed. She squeaked with the friction of landing, her legs trying so hard to keep her lower lips from touching despite their natural tendency to do so. It still hurt so bad without any stimulation. She couldn't imagine how much sex would hurt her, but she knew she would soon find out.

He wasted no time in dropping his pants and mounting her. His shirt was torn from his body while he moved his knees to urge her legs further open, which she did not fight. The cool air of the room touched her exposed core and she sighed. It was soothing to her wounds and she just wanted to stay that way until they healed. Blaise, however, had something else in mind, as he forced two fingers inside of her and rubbed his thumb over the slices in her flesh. She made a deep, tortured noise before screeching and bucking her hips, trying to fight him off. This only seemed to excite the male.

"Yes, mudblood whore, try to fight me off," he cooed, pressing harder against the wounds and delighting in her loud sobs. He then replaced his hand with his hard member, pushing against her wounds before thrusting into her, filling her roughly and without any attempt at making things smooth and easy. She cried louder, trying so hard to get away from the large man and his intrusion. His thrusting rubbed against her sliced lips and she bit her bottom lip so hard she drew blood. She felt as though she was burning from her core outward. Her whole body was doomed to go up in flames, yet she knew she wouldn't die. She'd never die. They'd torture her forever and she would never escape the intense pain.

The torture went on until Blaise filled her with his hot seed. She was a sobbing mess, holding tightly to the sheets beneath her and biting into her lip, blood showing clear through her teeth. The man pulled out of her and lay on the bed, chuckling lightly to himself. "That was quite satisfying, Mudblood," he said simply, reaching over to pinch her left nipple until she whimpered. This only made him laugh more, and he slowly got up and dressed himself.

"You are to go back to Draco now, I'm sure. I must collect Pansy. We've had our fun." With that, Blaise opened the door and glared at her, waiting for her to get up and out of the room. Hermione struggled to do as she was commanded, despite the intense pain coursing through her body. She walked with her legs slightly parted, trying desperately to stop the stinging and the pain from Blaise forcing himself on her. She felt like she'd never stop hurting down there, and she couldn't stop the constant stream of tears even as she made her way back to the man who was saving her by hurting her so. She was really starting to wonder if this was being saved, or if she'd rather try to survive whatever other horrors life might hand her.


	11. Chapter Ten: Picking Up the Pieces

**A/N:** So, I put off this story for a long time. But I finished it. And now I'm going to post the final three chapters for anyone who is still interested. Or who becomes interested since it will be sorted in 'complete' now. It ends really... dark... actually... And I don't know how I feel about the ending either. So whatever. But it's my first long fanfic that I've actually stuck with and finished. So yay! Thanks for the reads and reviews and such! 3

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten: Picking Up the Pieces<p>

Pansy and Blaise left without exchanging words with Malfoy, who looked upon Hermione with an almost softening gaze. She couldn't really ponder this too much, however, as she soon collapsed in a heap of pain and tears. She couldn't be strong any longer. It was all too much. She cried like it might take her away from the hell that was her reality, and Malfoy simply watched her break down, bleeding, on his living room floor.

Hermione felt his hands on her body, reaching around her frail form and lifting her easily into his arms. She shivered from the cold on her naked flesh and the shifting of her beaten body. The wounds hurt with every movement, and she feared she might soon blackout. He was being almost kind to her. Why was he taking care of her? As he ordered the house elves to run a bath and get some food, as she'd not eaten at dinner, Draco used his wand on the wounds Pansy had inflicted. Hermione was shocked. He'd actually healed her.

"Dra-Master," she quickly corrected herself, staring at him with wide brown orbs, "you h-healed me?" She knew she shouldn't question the kindness, shouldn't bring his attention to it, but she just couldn't let it go. Her limp body was soon sliding into the hot, lilac-scented water of the bath, while the blonde man glared down at her. She regretted her words, just as she knew she would, but he surprised her and actually answered.

"I don't want you actually dying on me, Granger," he growled, grabbing a sea sponge and forcing her to lean forward so he could rub her back in gentle circles. Her lips parted slightly in a pleasant moan as he rubbed her tense back and shoulders, making her feel like he might actually care a bit. "You made me angry last night. I felt a punishment was in order. Then you made me proud again when I got home, so I'm rewarding you. Haven't you figured out how things work yet? You do well, you get something nice. You do poorly, you get something not so nice. It's quite simple, really."

She nodded her head in understanding, biting her lip as he finished his cleaning and massaging of her back. She lay back in the tub, allowing him to soak her hair. It was strangely comforting, the way he was caring for her. Hermione had to remind herself why she hated this man. He had bought her. He made her his property by keeping her out of prison or worse. He had just allowed his friends to torture and rape her! She couldn't like him. There was no way she could ever possibly forgive the things Draco Malfoy had done to her. Even as the food arrived and he muttered a spell to finish the cleaning in an instant so that she could get out of the tub and enjoy the hot meal, Hermione found herself fighting with her conflicting emotions. What was she even supposed to be feeling at this point? Probably just despair, which wasn't far from what she ultimately did feel. She was trapped in this terrible situation, with the most confusing man she'd ever laid eyes on, and now he was holding out a silk robe for her while setting up dinner in bed.

She made herself comfortable and began eating, while Draco stared at her. It was a bit unnerving, and she finally had to break the silence, setting her utensils down and wiping her mouth before looking at him with questions in her eyes. "What is it, Master?" she asked timidly. She didn't want to set him off again. He was being so pleasant for once.

The man seemed to collect himself before sighing and running a hand through his silky blonde locks. Hermione had to mentally kick herself for finding his action so attractive. "Well, it's not something I'd normally say to someone… To you." His voice wavered uncharacteristically, and Hermione waited for him to continue. "I'm sorry. There. I said it. I shouldn't have boasted about you as I did and I shouldn't have invited that pair over here knowing what they would do to you. I wanted to punish you, but I shouldn't have done it that way. You are mine, but _only_ mine. I won't be sharing my little mudblood with anyone anymore."

The way he said 'mudblood' made it almost sound endearing. Hermione felt a bit sick. She was demented. She was actually thinking of his hateful term as an endearment toward her! What the hell was wrong with her? This was completely insane! She realized he was staring at her as if waiting for something, so she opened her mouth to thank him, then thought of something better. Oh, she was going to have to smack herself later.

Hermione leaned over the food tray and set her lips gently against those of her 'master'. She kissed him with the strength that she would kiss Ron if only he would come back to her as he had been. If only she could go back in time and stop that damned battle from even happening. Again, with the 'if only's.

When the tender kiss ended, Draco seemed to have a thoughtful look on his face and Hermione fought to hide a blush. She was acting like a school girl with a crush, when all she wanted was to be out of the whole situation. She was really starting to hate herself.

The man cleared his throat and stood, straightening his robes and striding to the door. "Right. Finish up and call Nixie for the plates. Get some sleep. I'll call on you tomorrow. Goodnight, Granger." He left and she groaned. What on Earth was Hermione Granger doing?


	12. Chapter Eleven: Learning to Live

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven: Learning to Live<p>

Time went by slowly. Hermione rarely made mistakes and Draco continued to treat her as well as he said he would. He still used her, of course, just as he promised, but he kept her for himself only. She was allowed to return to work, and she even found that she liked the wardrobe he provided her. She felt pretty, as she was putting some meat back on her bones now that she was being fed properly again. Her raccoon eyes were growing less dark and she had an all-around healthy glow about her. If you didn't know the situation, you might think Hermione was actually living quite well.

Each day she went to work and had to do the most menial tasks by hand, however, Hermione was reminded of her position. Each time those cold, grey eyes stared at her as if she was a coveted possession, she felt the cold dread settle in her stomach. She was constantly being reminded of just who she was, and what she was. There were reports in the paper everyday about the status of the mudblood rehabilitation, tallying how many stayed in the wizarding world, how many had left, and how many were incarcerated. It always disturbed her when the numbers changed. It seemed like everyday someone lost their nerve and left, or went to jail. She didn't want to become another statistic.

At night, she would confess her fears to Draco after he filled her with himself. She let herself give in to the feeling he invoked and he, in return, helped her feel good. He was a giving lover, and she a willing mistress. Hermione had accepted her position and Draco had taken that as a sign that he could be a bit more lenient with her. He could comfort her some, quell her fears. He caressed her hair and shushed her when she got worked up. "You are mine, Granger," he growled. He rarely even called her 'mudblood' anymore. "I won't send you off to the dementors or out to the muggle world. I'll keep you here, with me, forever."

The promise of forever terrified her. How could she be okay with this forever? How was she even okay with it now? Everything was so confusing in this new life. It was a world turned upside down from that she used to know. How was the brunette supposed to know what to think or do in such a situation? It wasn't like anything like this had ever happened before. She couldn't use experience as her judgment. She couldn't exactly rely on history, either. She was so conflicted.

One thing, Hermione did know for sure. She didn't hate the situation as much as she wanted to. She was being taken care of, even loved to some extent. It was more than she could have hoped for. She wasn't crying as much anymore, and she wasn't thinking about the past as often either. It was easier to get through the day when she had a distraction in the form of the handsome blonde who called her his. Despite the fact that he was calling her his property rather than his love, it still felt like more than she'd had in years, and so Hermione felt a bit stronger, a bit more whole. Maybe she could actually get through this. Maybe.


	13. Chapter Twelve: What the Future Holds

**A/N:** Well, this is it. The final chapter. Thanks for reading, and if you would review I'd appreciate it. If not, that's okay too. I hope you at least enjoyed my twisted little tale!

Title: Close to the Edge

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/M

Pairing: Dramione

Plot Summary: Four years ago, the end of the trio's seventh year marked the climax of the war that would be forever remembered in the wizarding world. The great Harry Potter battled Lord Voldemort and both wizards fell at each other's hand. Now, the chaos has leveled and darkness has established itself in the Ministry. With so many dead from the Light, and so much evil remaining, Hermione is fighting to survive in a world set against her. An unexpected law forces her to turn to anyone who might help, and the price of this man's help may be more than she can bear to pay.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve: What the Future Holds<p>

Months had passed and Hermione had slipped into her role quite nicely by now. She was used to going to work with Draco each day, seeing to his every need as he demanded, then returning home an hour or so before him so that she might be ready for his arrival. She'd bathe and change into one of the skimpy night things, which didn't even bother her anymore, and she'd go down to await his arrival. She learned to bow before him. To take his shoes and cloak, rub his shoulders and his feet, kiss his neck and lips to calm his nerves. She had learned well.

One day, however, things did not go as planned.

She was leaving the Ministry before her Master as usual, riding in the lift on her way to the floo stations. A familiar face rushed into the lift, and immediately Hermione was overwhelmed by Neville's urgent words. "Hermione," he said with worry clear in his voice, "I was just on my way to your office. I needed to find you, to tell you. It… It's Ron. He's taken a turn for the worse. He's been having fits, Hermione." His eyes were wide and pleading with her while Hermione stared at him, conflicting emotions roiling in her mind. What could she do? She wasn't supposed to go anywhere but the manor and the Ministry, especially without Malfoy's company. But, it was Ron. He might be dying, most likely was. She had to be there!

"Hermione, he's calling for you. He won't stop. All he's been doing is wailing and thrashing and calling your name. He's not going to make it," his eyes were watering now. It hurt Neville to have to see his old friends suffer, and Hermione thought he felt like he failed any time he lost a patient. Then it really hit her. Ron was dying. The love of her life was dying, and she was actually considering not being there.

She grasped Neville's arm and looked at him, finally letting tears stream down her cheeks. "Take me to him, Neville," she whispered. All consequences were forgotten as she pictured her best friend and true love dying alone in a cold hospital bed. She had to be there.

At her request, her old friend nodded his head and led her to the apparation points near the floos. He grasped her upper arm tightly, and Hermione felt the pull as her body twisted with Neville's and they were whisked away to St. Mungo's. It was the first time she'd apparated in months, and it made her slightly queasy. The girl had to clutch her stomach and close her eyes until the room stopped spinning before she could take Neville's hand and hurry to Ronald's side.

Her gasp echoed through the ward when chocolate eyes fell on the flailing redhead. Ron was convulsing on his bed, his own spittle foaming at his lips while his eyes rolled back in his skull. She couldn't hold back her tears as she watched him in horror. That was her Ron. The love of her life. And he was dying. She fell to her knees with a sickening _thud_, sobs wracking her frail body. "Oh Ron…" she whimpered. It was the only thing she could get out as she shimmied to his bedside, touching his arm while he continued to twitch.

"Er... my… nee…" his gurgling growl tore from his throat. It broke her heart a million times, yet she needed to hear it. He knew she was there. She was always there- in his heart. She never left him. Even when she wasn't strong enough for him, Ron still held her close in his soul. Hermione felt her body shake as she held his damp skin. His heart was racing and she could tell he didn't have much longer. He was fighting so hard, but what was it for? She just didn't understand why he didn't just give in. Death had to be better than this.

Neville touched her shoulder gently before a loud crack pulled their attention to the door. There stood a very angry blonde, his wand drawn and his cold, grey eyes looking utterly furious. The hand on Hermione's shoulder tightened for an instant, but then was gone as Neville tended to his patient. This allowed Draco to move into the room and roughly grab his ward by the hair, tugging her to her feet with no mercy in his hard grasp.

"What do you think you're doing, mudblood?" he hissed, pulling her hair so that she whimpered. Her tears still fell, much to his apparent glee. "Were you told to come here? Were you allowed to accompany the healer here instead of going straight to the manor? I don't remember giving you any sort of permission, and since I'm the only one who could do so, I think that means the answer is no." He pulled her toward the door as she watched Neville and Ron. It seemed the latter was having another bad fit. Neville was frantically waving his wand and calling for another healer. She couldn't leave now! She had to stay! He was about to die and she had to be there to tell him it was okay! She had to tell him how much she loved him!

"Please," she begged, sobbing as she looked at the man she loved more than anything, "Master, please, I'll do anything." The phrase that started this whole mess found its way to her lips again and Hermione didn't even care. She would lay down her life just to be able to give this little bit back to her Ron. She just needed to give him this one comfort to allow him to pass peacefully. He deserved it after all he'd been through. "Please."

Her eyes were so wide and so bloodshot from her tears. Malfoy sneered at her as he curled his lip and answered. "You already gave me 'anything,' mudblood. I don't need that promise again." He forced her from the room as Ron continued to scream. He turned on his heel and they apparated, Hermione feeling like she'd just been ripped apart. She'd just abandoned her best friend while he lay dying before her. What kind of hell was she living in?

As soon as they hit the ground at Malfoy manor, Hermione rounded on him, pounding on his chest while she cried until all her tears were spent. She still whined like a wounded animal until Malfoy pointed his wand at her. "[i]Crucio[/i]," he hissed, watching her body bend in odd directions. A smirk curled on his lips as he looked down at her tortured body, lifting the curse as he coldly laughed at her. "I see you got too comfortable here. I have been too kind. I have been too giving." He spat at her, noticing the broken look in her eyes. "Not anymore. I'm done treating you like more than the mudblood you are. I found a new secretary. One of noble birth. You don't work anymore. You live here. You remain here. Forever."

His hand wrapped around her throat as he leaned down to glare into her eyes. "You are my slave. My property. You are nothing more than a hole for me to fill." He pushed her away with disgust and she let her body fall, smacking her head against the hard wood floor. It hurt, but she barely felt it. His cold voice returned. "You have no freedom, mudblood. You have no will. You will pleasure me every night, and you will do whatever I say. If you _ever_ try to leave here, I will torture you until you die. Do you understand?"

Hermione simply nodded. If she had had any tears to shed, she would have, but her eyes were dry. She was spent. It was tempting to consider trying to leave, just to tempt the sweet release of death, but she knew that he would make it hard on her. Nothing would ever be easy for Hermione again. This was the end of her life. Never before had she wished to be dead like she did in that moment, when Draco Malfoy took away everything.


End file.
